All We Want, Baby, Is Everything
by Charlotte88
Summary: One-shot. Prequel to 'Beauty of the End'. Post-series fifteen. "No. Nikki Alexander does not need pity. She does not need people's sympathy. She is strong and impervious to damage. Isn't she?"


_Prequel to 'Beauty of the End'. It's not really completely essential that you read that first, but it would probably help._

* * *

**All We Want, Baby, Is Everything**

_"Let's be exposed and unprotected, let's see one another when we're weak."_

Sometimes she hates him, you know. Really can't stand to even look at him. Because he makes her feel vulnerable. And for a woman who had to grow up awfully fast and then look after herself, this isn't a nice feeling. She's strong. And independent. And he makes her feel the opposite.

Some people (Leo) might suggest that this is a good thing. That she needs to learn to stop being so self-sufficient. That it's nice she has someone to lean on.

Which would be fine, except how is she supposed to lean on him, when he's leaving in the morning? Going a thousand miles away for god knows how long?

Maybe she's a little angry. And maybe she's not looking at this objectively. And maybe this rum punch that Leo made for the party is more rum and less punch.

He's not even here, anyway. Harry. This party is for him, to say goodbye, and he's disappeared. A minute ago he was talking to Zak and now he's nowhere to be seen. If he's nobly slipped away to save all the awkward goodbyes, she's going to bloody kill him.

Her stomach clenches painfully and she drinks some more punch. She feels physically sick when she thinks of him leaving. She opened up to him, leant on him, let him in, and now he's abandoning her just like everyone else does.

Perhaps that's not fair. It's a fantastic opportunity. He'd be mad to turn it down. Which is, perhaps, why he never did.

There's a tightening in her lungs and it becomes increasingly difficult to breathe. The party is too loud, too stifling. Leo looks completely (and uncharacteristically) wasted. Everyone is too happy, too noisy. She can't stand it. Grabbing her bag and forgetting about her coat, she ignores the many curious glances and exits the office.

Once in the corridor she semi-collapses against the wall, the tears threatening to spill over. But she's strong, remember, so she inhales deeply, blinks the tears away and straightens up. Then slowly starts to walk. God only knows where she's going, but she has to get away from here.

But, of course, the door at the other end of the corridor opens, and, right on cue, Harry appears. His eyes fix on her and he frowns.

"Where were you?" she asks quickly, before he can say anything.

"Doing something. Are you - are you leaving?"

Her jaw clenches as she says, "No, that's you."

He sighs and gazes at her sadly. _No_. Nikki Alexander does not need pity. She does not need people's sympathy. She is strong and impervious to damage.

Isn't she?

"Go and wait for me at my car," he orders. "I'll go and say goodbye to Leo and my mum and everyone, and then I'm taking you home."

"So you can say goodbye to me?" she questions.

He does that sad look thing again before simply saying, "Yes."

She's not sure why but she does as he told her and is soon out in the car park, her breath rising as fog in front of her in the cool September night air. The stars glimmer faintly in the bruise-black sky. The only illumination is the orange glow from nearby lamp posts.

His rental car sits in front of her. She doesn't like it. It's just another sign that he's going, the fact that he's had to sell his ordinary car and get this one temporarily. It felt all wrong turning up to the party in it earlier, like being in a stranger's car.

He takes a long time saying goodbye and she begins to shiver and wish that she'd not forgotten her coat. She's half-considering going back in to get it, but then she sees him exiting the building. He runs a hand through his hair and then over his face, and she knows that he's struggling to keep it together before she's even seen his expression. And part of her wants to wrap her arms around him and hold him tightly, but then there's that angry part of her who kind of wants to hit him.

He doesn't say anything at first. Just looks at her for a moment before unlocking the car. "Come on."

She sits down heavily, wishing she knew what to say to him. But she doesn't. How is she supposed to voice how she's feeling when she doesn't know herself? How is she supposed to comfort him, when there's nothing on this planet that can be said to comfort her?

So they drive in silence, but she hears him sniff occasionally and is scared to look at him in case he's crying.

When they get back to her apartment, he walks her up the steps to the front door and then opens his mouth like he's going to talk. But she couldn't bear it if this were actually goodbye, so she stops him with a shake of head. Then she says, "Come inside for a while. Please."

"Nikki, I-"

"Please, Harry. Please. _Please_." This time she makes no attempt to stop the silent tear that slowly rolls down her cheek.

He gently brushes it away with his thumb as he nods. "Okay."

So they go upstairs, but if she thought her apartment would somehow be easier than the top step then she was wrong. It's so much harder. Because everything in here reminds her of him; of takeaways they've had together, of arguments they've screamed and of make-ups they've shared.

Maybe he's thinking the same thing, because she feels his arm around her shoulders. And it's the first time they've shared any physical proximity for weeks, because it's been a bit weird since he announced he was leaving, but she doesn't hesitate in collapsing against his chest, her arms winding around his back.

She doesn't cry. What's the point? What will it achieve? Crying is just a sign of weakness. _I'm not weak._

Harry lifts his lips from her hairline. "What?"

She hadn't intended to say it aloud. She's not sure where the next words come from, but she looks up at him and mutters, "You make me weak."

His arms immediately disengage from her waist and she takes a step backwards. He has a look on his face like he wants to say something, but she figures that whatever her statement evokes in him can't be good. So she breaks eye contact and looks around the room. "I need a drink."

She makes towards the kitchen but he grabs her wrist, preventing her from leaving. "What do you mean? I make you weak?"

She doesn't really want to answer this. She doesn't really know _how_ to answer this. But he's leaving in a few hours so what's she got to lose, really?

"It used to be that I never needed anybody," she begins quietly. "I would shut people out and do everything on my own. Because I was strong. And I was independent. And I had grown up doing things for myself. And then I met you." She pauses briefly, trying to untangle the thoughts in her head. "I had spent years protecting myself, building all these walls. And then you chipped away at them, and they crumbled and collapsed. And I was left exposed and vulnerable. But I didn't care. Because you were there. But now you're leaving and I'm going to have no one."

She stops talking but he's still gazing at her, so intensely that she feels her cheeks flush. It's an uncomfortable silence and she feels the need to break it, so she says, "I'm not blaming you, you had no idea, I just-"

"Of course I knew," he interrupts gruffly.

"Oh."

More silence. God, it's unbearable.

"If - if I asked you to stay ... would you?" she murmurs, scared of the answer.

As she thought, he gives her a sad, resigned smile and says, "In a heartbeat. Do you want me to stay?"

What on earth is she supposed to say to that? Of course she wants him to stay. But to be the one to make him...

"No," she says firmly. "I mean, yes, but no. You can't stay. Not because of me."

"What if I want to?" he challenges.

"You can't. You'd end up resenting me for not letting you go."

"I could never resent you," he insists.

"Then I'll hate myself!" she cries. "Damn it, Harry..."

Her eyes screw up and her chin falls to her chest as she tries to regain her composure. There's movement in front of her and she looks up again, to find Harry standing less than a foot away from her, right in her personal space. She sighs sadly as his forehead falls against hers.

"I don't know how to leave you," he breathes.

She swallows hard. "You have to."

At some point during their conversation, that final long-standing, unspoken barrier must have fallen down. Because when she does what she does next, he doesn't question her or pull away. Instead he allows her to take his hand and lead him into her bedroom. He allows her to silently reach up and take off his jumper before slipping it over her own blouse. She kicks off her shoes and he, standing there in his thin t-shirt and jeans, uses his toes to push off his own.

It's only when she leads him over to the bed, climbing on and then tugging him down beside her, that he finally murmurs her name. But she knows his concern and that isn't her intention. And he realises this, as soon as she pulls the thick duvet over them and settles down against his torso.

"I have to leave for the airport at four a.m.," he reminds her in a whisper. "And my suitcase is still at my apartment."

"We'll get it later. I'll take you."

"Are you sure?"

She nods into his chest.

"That will mean leaving my car here. I'm not sure if the rental place will pick it up, or-"

"Please stop," she implores, on the verge of tears again.

He sighs, and pulls her closer.

If anyone were to walk in right now, they might assume that they've stumbled upon a happy couple sleeping. But they'd be wrong. Because although one of her arms is curled under his t-shirt on his bare stomach, and one of his arms is tightly wrapped around her, his hand under her layers of jumper and blouse to rest on her hip, and her head is tucked neatly in the crook of his shoulder, her lips resting on the warm skin of his neck, and their legs are tangled together - they aren't asleep.

And they remain that way for hours, not moving or speaking or sleeping, just simply breathing each other in for the last time. It isn't until the clock is about to hit 2 a.m. that she finally breaks the silence.

"Why didn't we ever happen?"

He thinks for a moment before saying, "Because I'm a bloody coward."

A tear slips unbidden from the corner of her eye onto Harry's top. Her heart aches for him, for his continued presence in her life.

His arms tighten around her. "I'm sorry, Nikki," he breathes, "I'm sorry. I'm so _so_ sorry."

He sounds pained and desperately sad and heartbroken and she can't bear it. She pushes herself up slightly so that she can look at him. His eyes are red-rimmed and he's gazing at her unhappily. She places a hand on his cheek, her forehead falling against his much as his did on hers earlier. Their eyes are closed and she can feel his breath on her cheek.

"You're not a coward," she breathes.

And that's when he kisses her, his left hand burying itself in her hair as his right snakes further up under her top. And she reciprocates desperately, because really, isn't this everything she's wanted for years? And he tastes of scotch (and a little of that ghastly rum punch) and his kisses are hot and slack and fast, and his fingers burn against her skin and send a shudder of pleasure up her spine.

But there's something wrong. A niggling voice in the depths of her consciousness is screaming that it's only happening because he's leaving, because it's their last chance. It wasn't meant to happen like this, when they're both a little drunk and in such an emotional place.

So, with sincere reluctance, she pulls back. And the small distance that she creates between them becomes a great gulf, filling with disappointment and awkwardness. He looks lost and confused, and it just about breaks her heart.

"We can't, Harry," she whisper. "Not like this."

"Why?" he implores.

She swallows hard. "Because how will you ever be able to leave afterwards?"

The silence falls again and lasts for a while this time. He pulls her close to his chest again but it's not quite the same as before, because this time he pretends to be asleep. She wants to stay awake, to be conscious for every last second, but there's no way she can when she's as tired as she is. When she stirs a little after three-thirty, he's disappeared and she panics. His shoes are no longer on the floor and the sheets beside her are cold.

But she needn't have worried, because she sees him sitting on the sofa as soon as she enters the lounge. His elbows are on his knees, his chin on his fingertips, and he's clearly lost in thought. Gently, she says, "Harry?"

He starts and looks up at her for just a brief moment, before returning his attention to the wall. "We need to go soon."

She nods. "Give me five minutes to get changed-"

"I'll wait by the car," he interrupts, getting to his feet, putting his jacket on over his t-shirt and heading outside.

She falls backwards to lean against the wall, biting her lip uncertainly and picking at a stray thread on the cuff of his jumper. Maybe offering to drive him to the airport was a bad idea. She's angry again, and it's all a little uncomfortable after what happened a couple of hours ago, and she's sleep-deprived and emotional.

And as they're pulling away from his apartment a short while later, with his suitcase loaded into the boot and an uncomfortable silence lingering in the air, she realises that yes, this was a terrible, shitty idea.

* * *

**I know I said that I wasn't going to write the 'last night' that I mentioned in _Beauty of the End_, but so many of you asked me to. Except it proved a lot more difficult than I thought. Because although I knew right from the beginning of _BotE_ how this night was going to go, it was so impossible to translate it into coherent writing. This is actually the third "version" of it that I wrote (and I use that term loosely because they're all really very different) but I absolutely hated the other two. Kinda love this one, though. After drafting and redrafting it for days now, it's as close to how it happened in my head as it's ever going to be.**

**I think I'm safe in assuming that this won't be how some of you wanted it to go, but I hope you're not too disappointed. I'd love to know what you think.**

**Oh, and the lyrics at the top are from 'Just Be' by the gorgeous Paloma Faith, which I quite literally had on repeat each time I was working on this.**

**Lastly, I must apologise for my absence lately. I've just gone back to uni and my life has been hectic and crazy and I've now reached that level of exhaustion where I'm weepy and emotional and can hardly think straight. Once I settle into my routine again, I'll be back properly. Until then, I guess, I just really hope you enjoy this. **

**You're all amazing and I love you all.**

**Charlotte xxx**


End file.
